


It's almost Halloween

by harriet_vane



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Halloween, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harriet_vane/pseuds/harriet_vane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>I hear you like stories where people fight evil and possibly where Ryan and Spencer hug.♥</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's almost Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old, old fic that I wrote for a friend for Halloween the year Panic! put out their [Halloween music video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3iTFnNU3AYg). Reposting it now because Reena_Jenkins has been kind enough to [record a podfic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1020575) of it. :)

“I think,” said Brendon, “that something’s wrong.”  
  
Ryan rolled over and buried his head under his pillow. He attempted to say  _It’s four in the morning, you dickhead_ , but what came out was mostly a yawn.  
  
“Ryan. Ryan. Ryan  _Ross_. You need to get up.”  
  
Ryan waved with one arm and hoped that Brendon would go away if he was ignored. Sometimes that worked. Not for very long, obviously, but sometimes Ryan got lucky.  
  
There was a weird moaning sound. Weird enough that the hair on Ryan’s arms started to prickle and something cold shivered down his spine. He sat up and nearly smacked his head on the bunk.  
  
“Was that you?” he asked.  
  
Brendon hopped from foot to foot and looked anxious. “No,” he said. “That’s the thing. I  _really_  think you ought to get up.” He rubbed his hands against his bare arms and twitched a little.  
  
Ryan knew the only sensible answer to weird noises and upset Brendons in the middle of the night. “Where’s Spencer?” he asked. “Spencer will handle it.”  
  
Brendon made a complicated frowny apologetic face. “He and Zack went out to see what the noise was? Like, a while ago? And… They aren’t back yet?” He pitched all those sentences like questions, as if maybe Ryan wouldn’t be mad at him if he was only  _suggesting_  it.  
  
“Then where’s Jon?” Ryan asked.  
  
“He went to look for them,” said Brendon. And then he burst out, “Please get up, Ryan, I don’t want to be alone, there’s a weird noise, and, and, and  _stuff_  outside!”  
  
“Stuff?” echoed Ryan. He got out of the bunk and pulled on a t-shirt, because if he was going on an expedition to find Spencer and Jon then he wasn’t going to do it in just his underwear. “Stuff like what?”  
  
Brendon waved a little frantically. “Like… fog,” he said. “Scary fog. And darkness.”  
  
“Fog isn’t scary,” said Ryan. “Put on some pants, we have to find our band.” Ryan dug through a suitcase looking for a pair of jeans that were actually his. The first pair were doll-sized, so he tossed them to Brendon, and the second pair were big enough for three Ryans, which meant they were Jon’s. Ryan pulled them on anyway.  
  
“Fog that eats Zack  _is_  scary,” Brendon insisted. “The fog  _ate Zack and Spencer_. And then Jon! How is that  _not_  scary?”  
  
There was another, longer moan from outside, and then a howl. Ryan shivered involuntarily. Brendon squeaked a little. Ryan was pretty sure that everyone was fine, because Brendon was well-known to be both superstitious and an overreactor. But it was weird that they’d been gone for so long.  
  
“If this is a practical joke,” said Ryan, “I will kill you all.”  
  
Brendon made another nervous noise and grabbed a hoodie. “I hope it is,” he said.  
  
“Why didn’t anyone wake me up?” Ryan asked. “I shouldn’t have to wake up and find out my best friend is missing and there are scary evil howls.”  
  
“Do you really think they’re scary and evil?” Brendon asked anxiously. “I was hoping that was just me. Anyway, you said if anyone woke up before noon you were going to kill them, and you had your really serious mean face on, the one you used to – I mean, I haven’t seen you look that mean in a while, so we decided not to wake you up even when the noises started.”  
  
Ryan rolled his eyes. “I was joking,” he said. “I don’t want to kill people nearly as often anymore.”  
  
“Things have changed for us,” Brendon agreed. “Um. So. Are we going to go look for them?”  
  
“Obviously,” said Ryan. Everything outside the bus was pitch black, which was not usual. He couldn’t see anything except blank darkness. “Where are we?”  
  
“Lost in the fog,” said Brendon. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Maybe we should wait here. Zack said to wait here.”  
  
“But Zack hasn’t come back,” Ryan said. “How long has it been? Have you tried calling them?”  
  
“An hour,” said Brendon. “Half an hour since Jon left. They’re totally not answering their phones.”  
  
That was ominous. Even if they’d wandered off and gotten stoned and forgotten to come back, Zack should have brought them back by now. Ryan looked around the bus for things that might help fight an evil fog, but he didn’t see much. “Do you know how to make holy water?” he asked.  
  
Brendon frowned. “I’m not Catholic. You want me to ask my mom to mail me some of the special underwear?”  
  
“Nah,” said Ryan. “You want to stay here? I’m gonna go find Spence.”  
  
“I am  _not_  staying here alone,” said Brendon firmly. “Uh-uh.”  
  
“Okay, then,” said Ryan. He didn’t have a crucifix or a rosary or anything, but he had a lot of bracelets with hearts on them, and maybe those would do something. He put on five or six and handed one to Brendon, who looked puzzled but didn’t argue. “Let’s go. Where are the flashlights?”  
  
“Spencer and Zack and Jon took them,” said Brendon. “But I think there’s another one here.”  
  
Ryan pushed the door open just as the howling started up again. It shrieked up and down the scale and Brendon definitely tried to press himself as tightly as possible against Ryan’s back. “Chill,” said Ryan firmly.  
  
“I’m chill,” Brendon lied. He snuck his hand into Ryan’s, and Ryan pretended not to notice. Possibly Ryan also wanted someone to hold hands with.  
  
It was dark outside. Not normal dark, but pitch pitch black, except where Ryan could see tendrils of fog swirling off into the blackness around the bus’ headlights. The headlights faded into darkness and then there was just nothing. No streetlights, no houses, no buildings. “This is weird,” said Ryan.  
  
“Creepy,” Brendon agreed.  
  
“Which way did they go?” Ryan asked. He raised his voice and shouted, “Spencer? Spencer!” His voice was totally swallowed by the fog and darkness. “You shout,” ordered Ryan. “You’ve got the loudest voice.”  
  
Brendon made an unhappy noise. “This isn’t funny!” he hollered. Ryan winced; Brendon was right in his ear. “Zack! Spencer! Jon! You guys! Come on!”  
  
There was no response. Brendon’s voice just sank into the fog and vanished. Ryan turned on the flashlight with his free hand and said, “Okay. Let’s do this.” He was a little alarmed at how quickly the bus vanished behind them. Brendon’s hand was a little sweaty and gross, but at least it meant Ryan wasn’t walking totally alone though a creepy featureless void.  
  
Something howled. Brendon stopped dead, so Ryan had to, too. “Let’s go back,” Brendon said.  
  
“Back where?” asked Ryan. “Do you even know which way the bus was?”  
  
“Um,” said Brendon. Ryan couldn’t see, but he assumed Brendon was pointing. “That way?”  
  
“We’re going toward the noise,” said Ryan firmly. He was pretty sure that was what Spencer would have done. Then Spencer would have yelled at whoever it was for howling, because Spencer was both awesome and kind of dumb.  
  
“I think that’s a bad idea,” said Brendon, huddling a little closer to Ryan, but he didn’t try and stop him.  
  
There was a moan, a lot closer. It was low and creepy and it sounded so much like a horror movie that Ryan was hopeful Zack was just watching a slasher flick.  
  
Outside.  
  
In the dark.  
  
With no screen or light.  
  
Okay, maybe not.  
  
“Look out!” Brendon yelled suddenly. He grabbed Ryan’s arm and yanked him backwards, and Ryan stumbled and fell. Something swished through the air over his head, and there was a sudden stink of rotting garbage and blood. Ryan landed hard on Brendon, who squeaked painfully.  
  
“What’s that?” Ryan demanded. His heart was pounding. Before he could get back to his feet there was a squishy wet  _thwack_  noise and the moan stopped.  
  
“That,” said Spencer’s voice, “is a zombie. Ugh, they are gross motherfuckers, I have zombie guts all over my pajamas.”  
  
Ryan pointed the flashlight up. Spencer grinned at him. He had spattered something all over his shirt, and he was holding a baseball bat. Ryan didn’t ask where it had come from. Spencer was the kind of person who, in case of zombie attack, would obviously find a baseball bat.  
  
“What do you mean, zombie?” asked Brendon, a little muffled underneath Ryan. “Ow, get off me. You mean  _zombie_  zombies?”  
  
“I think so,” said Spencer. “Except so far they haven’t tried to eat my brain."  
  
“That,” said Jon’s voice, “is because we all know Ryan is the brains of this outfit.”  
  
Ryan turned the flashlight again. Jon looked pale, but that might just have been the weak light and the darkness around him.  
  
“Ryan definitely has the tastiest brain here,” Brendon said. “Hey, I’m super glad you guys aren’t dead. Do you have another baseball bat? Or a shotgun? Or Zack?”  
  
Ryan got to his feet and pulled Brendon up, too. “Nah,” said Spencer. “He said he was gonna ‘handle it.’ I mean, crazy fans, sure, but zombies?” He shrugged. “You guys seen the bus? I lost it somehow.”  
  
“That way,” said Brendon, pointing in the opposite direction from where Ryan thought it was. “I think. Maybe? Oh shit, zombie!”  
  
There was another moan and then a shriek, and something lumbered out of the darkness at them. It got one hand on Ryan’s arm, feeling cold and dead and utterly creepy. “Hey!” said Jon, launching himself at the zombie thing to try and pull it off.  
  
“Move,” said Spencer, lining up the bat. He swung and the head flew off, disappearing as it tumbled into the darkness. The body just stood there. “What is  _with_  these things?”  
  
“Eww, eww, eww,” Brendon chanted, pulling the fingers off Ryan’s arm. Ryan would have helped, but he was feeling a little lightheaded. There was a zombie holding on to him. Brendon shoved at the zombie’s body and it tipped over and fell with a wet crunch against the ground. “Okay, we need to get back to the bus, because that was gross.”  
  
“I want to know  _why_  zombies,” said Jon. “I mean. Does this kind of thing just happen? The bus wanders off into the darkness and then zombies eat us? I feel like I would have seen that on the news.”  
  
“Unless it just happened,” said Spencer. “Maybe this is the  _start_  of the zombie apocalypse.”  
  
“Or maybe,” Brendon moaned, “this is the end, and we’re the last living people on earth.”  
  
“No, Pete would have called,” Ryan reassured him.  
  
“Or texted,” said Spencer. “’SRY G2G, ZMBIE 8 PATRICK.’ Something.”  
  
There was a shriek somewhere nearby, and they all turned. Spencer hoisted his bat defensively, and Jon held up his hands as if he were about to karate chop someone. Ryan was about ninety percent sure Jon didn’t know karate, but he appreciated the thought. He squeezed Brendon’s hand, since that seemed like a helpful thing to do.  
  
The flashlight flickered and went out. “Oh,  _great_ ,” said Jon.  
  
There was a flare of light. Jon and Spencer both backed over, close enough that Ryan could feel their shoulders’ pressed against his. Brendon had plastered himself to Ryan’s back again.  
  
A whole army of zombies were shuffling toward them. And in front of them was a girl with a dog roughly the size of a small horse. She looked pretty pissed. Her dog did, too. He snarled and growled and snapped at the band.  
  
“My zombie army is going to eat your brains,” she said.  
  
“Uh,” Ryan frowned. “Do we know you?”  
  
“He does,” she said, and pointed at Ryan. No, wait; she was pointing at Brendon  _behind_  Ryan.  
  
Ryan, Spencer, and Jon turned to look at Brendon, who tried really hard to shrink into his hoodie. “Brendon,” said Ryan. “Anything you want to tell us?”  
  
Brendon shook his head. “I would remember if zombies had been hanging around the bus,” he promised.  
  
“All I wanted,” she said, “was some of your blood. Just a little bit. Just enough to make a copy of you to be my love-slave.” Her eyes were kind of wide and crazy.  
  
Ryan looked at Spencer, and Spencer rolled his eyes. Girls definitely got the weirdest about Brendon, they never should have made him lead singer.  
  
“No, thanks,” said Brendon. “I mean, thanks for the offer? But I like to keep my blood on the inside.”  
  
The dog snarled and snapped. “You can come here,” she said, “or I can send Muffin to go get you.”  
  
“No,” said Spencer immediately, holding up the bat. Behind her the zombies swayed and moaned and howled. It was creepy as fuck. Ryan’s spine was trying to crawl out his back and run away.  
  
“My zombies are going to  _love_  eating your brains,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.  
  
“Yeah? Bring it,” said Spencer, waving the bat around crazily. Ryan wasn’t actually sure Spencer could take on a hundred zombies on his own, so clearly they needed to come up with some secondary strategies.  
  
“Hang on, it’s okay,” said Brendon, stepping around Ryan. His voice was really high-pitched and tight. “If she just needs a  _little_  of my blood, and the alternative is zombies eating you guys, it’s totally cool.”  
  
“No, it’s not,” said Jon, grabbing Brendon’s arm. “Not cool at  _all_.”  
  
Ryan wanted to make a joke, something about Jon not feeling  _sanguine_  about Brendon’s blood, but now was probably not the time to stop and explain new vocabulary to the band. “You don’t get Brendon,” Ryan said firmly instead.  
  
A zombie shuffled forward, moaning and waving his arms. Spencer swung the bat and knocked off one arm, but it flailed and hit him back. Ryan didn’t stand for that kind of thing. He swung the flashlight and hit the zombie in the head. The flashlight sank into the gross squishy zombie skull, and Ryan yelped and stumbled backwards. The zombie tipped over and crashed into Jon, who threw it off and ducked aside.  
  
“Gross,” said Ryan. His hand was covered in drippy, gooey stuff. “This is disgusting. Does anyone know how to get zombie off your shirt?”  
  
“I bet Gerard Way does,” said Jon.  
  
“He said he probably wouldn’t survive a zombie attack,” Ryan said automatically. Spencer rolled his eyes, and Ryan winced. He had to stop fanboying Gerard and then admitting to it.  
  
“No one is going anywhere!” the girl yelled. “Not until I get my blood!”  
  
“How  _much_  blood?” Brendon bargained. Ryan kicked him in the shin. Brendon was always going way too far to make the fans happy.  
  
“Listen, lady, lots of people want a piece of Brendon,” said Spencer. “Or the rest of us. That doesn’t mean they get one. Undo your freaky voodoo and get rid of the zombie army, or—“  
  
“Or  _what_?” she asked. “ _I’m_  the one with the evil wolf and the zombie army!”  
  
That seemed like a reasonable point to Ryan. “But we’re the ones with Brendon,” he said, clutching the back of Brendon’s hoodie a little. He wiped some zombie brains off on it. His hand was getting all sticky.  
  
“They are also the ones with  _me_ ,” said Zack, appearing out of the darkness.  
  
Zack hadn’t found a baseball bat. Zack had found an axe.  
  
Ryan winced and hid his face in Brendon’s shoulder before he had to see anything. There was a shriek and a splat and Zack laughed a little bit too much like a maniac in a slasher film. “Oh,  _hell_  no,” said Brendon, and then his voice was totally muffled because Spencer was clinging to both of them, and so was Jon.  
  
It was a nice group hug, because it meant Ryan didn’t have to see whatever was making all those shrieks and growls and howling noises. He really, really didn’t want to know what Zack was doing with the axe. Moans cut off in horrible bubbly noises, and Ryan clung a little tighter to Spencer.  
  
“Is he—“ Brendon started, sounding half-curious and half-horrified.  
  
“No looking,” Jon ordered. “Just hugging. Oh,  _ewww_.”  
  
“Eww  _what_?”  
  
“Nothing,” said Spencer. He was the tallest, so he turned his back to the carnage and blocked Brendon’s view.  
  
They’d gotten really good at group hugs at some point. Ryan was pretty grateful. He wondered if they could write a song about how hugging was totally better than watching zombies get decapitated, and figured they probably could. Then, if he ever missed being afraid for his life, Ryan could work in a way to make Spencer play the tambourine.  
  
“Okay, guys,” said Zack.  
  
Brendon peeked up over Spencer’s shoulder. “You didn’t kill her!” he said. “Yay, Zack!” There were dismembered zombie body parts and goo and brains everywhere. Ryan wondered where she’d gotten all the zombies, and then decided he didn’t want to know. Ever.  
  
Zack reached over and petted the dog. The girl crossed her arms and glowered. “Fix it,” Zack ordered.  
  
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said.  
  
Zack glared. Ryan was really,  _really_  glad that Zack’s job was to glare at other people, not at him.  
  
“ _Fine_ ,” she said. She mumbled something and light started flickering all around them. After a second the fog lifted, and they were in a dimly-lit parking lot instead of a formless black void.  
  
“Oh, yay, shopping carts,” said Jon. “I missed those when I thought we were wandering in hell.”  
  
“You,” said Zack, “are banned from shows.  _Forever._ I have a whole speech about not being creepy and now I’m gonna have to add a bunch of shit about black magic and evil zombies. I swear to god, fans of other bands are cool with ‘No touching.’ What  _is_  it about these kids that makes you all nuts?”  
  
“Can I get a signature, at least?” she asked, making a sad face.  
  
“Sure,” said Brendon automatically.  
  
Ryan had half been expecting that, and apparently so had Jon and Spencer, because absolutely no one let go of Brendon. “No,” said Spencer. “He’s ours. Get your own.”  
  
“I was  _trying_ ,” she complained.  
  
Zack pointed at the bus. “How about you guys go back and get some sleep before the show, okay? I’ll handle her.”  
  
Ryan was beyond cool with that. No one was dead, he had Spencer back, no crazy fans had stolen Brendon, and Jon was making kissy faces at a giant dog. Things were okay. “You’ll handle her without the axe, right?” said Jon.  
  
Zack made a face. “I’ll work on it. Night, guys.”  
  
Ryan tugged on his band until they started walking. It was a little hard to move all huddled together, but Ryan wasn’t about to let go of either Spencer’s shoulders or Brendon’s hand. Not even to pull up his jeans, which he suddenly remembered were actually Jon’s, and were falling down.  
  
“When we get back,” said Spencer, “I think we shower and then we make a pillow fort in the lounge and stay there forever. Cool?”  
  
“I’ll make hot chocolate!” said Brendon.  
  
“With tiny marshmallows,” said Jon.  
  
“And nothing that’s dead  _or_  undead,” said Ryan. “Maybe we could go adopt a puppy. That might help.”  
  
“One little near-death experience and you get all freaked out,” said Brendon. He wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck. “Piggy back?”  
  
“This was your fault somehow,” said Spencer affectionately. “I know it. I’m going to figure it out and then I’m gonna kick your ass.”  
  
“Uh huh,” said Brendon unconcernedly, letting Jon drag him. “It’s not my fault the fans love me best. That’s what you get for growing a weird little moustache-thing. Yuck, by the way.”  
  
Ryan waited until they’d all gone up the stairs and then locked the door behind them. Zack could let himself in later. Next time there was a zombie attack Ryan wasn’t letting anyone wander off without him.


End file.
